Past Revisited
by BJ2
Summary: SLASH! Logan/Remy An accident while on a mission leaves Remy with no memory and in the clutches of an evil man. At Home the team seaches for their lost friend.
1. Chapter 1

**Marvel owns everyone and everything you may recognize. I only borrowed them to write this little fic. No harm was meant and no money was made. **

A/N: This story was toned down a bit for this site. To read this, or any of my other fics as they were originally written please visit Fan Fiction Writers.

*****

As Ororo entered the room Logan already knew who was on the phone she held; there was only one person who could put that look in her eyes, "Do not call me that ridiculous name, brother, or I will zap you through the phone line." There was a pause as she listened to the response then she did something totally out of character, she giggled, "Say your goodbyes to Logan, brother, because upon your return I will have my revenge." Another pause and a sweet smile crossed her lips, "I love you too." She handed the phone to Logan, "He seems to be in an especially good mood tonight."

Logan smiled and stood as he took the phone from her hand. He moved across the hall to the Den; it was usually empty this time of night and he felt the need for some privacy with his lover even though he was hundreds of miles away. Remy had been away now for an eternally long week on a fact finding mission. "You better watch it kiddo, someday yer really gonna piss her off." He smiled at the response and sat down in an overstuffed leather chair. He threw one leg up over the arm and settled in. "Where are you?"

Remy shivered as the rain pelted down around the open phone booth he was in.  
"Somewhere in Pennsylvania. It's rainin' pretty hard. I was gonna try to get home but I think I'm gonna call it a night. I miss you."

Logan smiled, "I miss you too, Rem. Next time Chuck sends you on a road trip I'm comin' along. Don't drive that bike too far in the rain, it ain't good in that kinda weather with those fancy tires you got on it."

It was Remy's turn to laugh, "You're just jealous 'cause mines faster than yours now." There was a short pause and then "Are you 'lone Cher?"

Logan got comfortable and asked, "Yeah, why do ya wanna know?" His eyes grew big as he listened to his sultry young lover make exquisite love to him over the phone. He moaned as that honey sweet drawl flooded his brain with thoughts and images. Totally lost in though; he smiled as he realized that Remy was chuckling on the other end of the line. "Get you ass home boy 'cause when you do I'm gonna…"

Remy shivered again but this time it had nothing to do with the cold rain, "I'll be there by dinner tomorrow, I love you."

Logan sighed, "Love you too, Rem." He hung up the phone and just thought a while. He was afraid that Remy would grow tired of him and move on to someone young and beautiful like himself when they first became serious as a couple but that never happened; if anything what they just kept growing stronger. They'd been together now for nearly a year and there didn't seem to be any limit to how amazing this could be.

He sighed and went searching for a beer.

In the kitchen he found Scott and Jean sharing a snack and going over the events of the day. "You got your call I take it?" Jean said with a smirk.

"Bite me Red," Logan growled but there was no venom behind the words. "He says hi and that he'll be back tomorrow." He twisted off the cap and took a long drink.

Jean stood and walked behind Scott; she draped her arms around his shoulders with a pretty little pout on her lips, "Do you look like that after a call from me when I go away on missions?"

Logan smiled, but he understood what she was talking about; he always felt unimaginably lighter, younger… somehow better after talking to Remy. The boy was definitely a good influence for the gruff older man.

"I don't know, Logan, what do you think?" Scott finally answered Jean's question.

He grabbed another beer and headed for the door, "No way Bub, I'm not getting in the middle of *that* conversation."

Scott laughed and Jean smacked him playfully; they'd be having this conversation well into the night.

Logan made his way to the room he now shared with the Cajun and turned on the lights, Remy's influence could be seen here too. Fine art work and stacks of books, framed pictures and a guitar in the corner, satin sheets and a thick down comforter, all touches that Remy added to the previously sparse room.

Logan sat at the antique desk Remy found and fell in love with, and picked up a frame; Jean had gifted them with the photo on their six-month anniversary. Logan smiled, never before had he thought of things like anniversaries. In the picture, Remy was lying back against his chest. He was looking up at him with such adoration in his eyes; as if he was in the presence of someone he truly worshiped. Logan was leaning gently against the soft auburn hair that coiled down and framed his impossibly handsome face.

He loved the picture, next to his swords it would always be his most cherished possession, or at least until he claimed the young man in it legally. He had plans in motion to do just that. He found himself almost giddy at the thought of being able to claim the boy as his in the eyes of God and everyone else for all time.

He carefully returned the photo to its rightful place and stripped down to his boxers. Climbing into the bed he sighed and swore to himself that this was the last night he would ever be without his lover beside him again.

*****

Remy saw the hitchhiker and ancient memories assaulted him.

How many times had *he* been the one standing in the rain hoping someone would take pity on him because he was too tired, or sore, or lost in memories to take another step. He had a home now, a lover who welcomed him into a warm bed and a strong embrace every night, but seeing the man brought his own sordid past back into clear view. He pulled off the road by a sign for a fleabag apartment building three miles up; at least he could save the guy a little bit of walking; drop him off at the phone that no doubt waited there. "Come on man, it ain't dry but it's a ride if ya wan' it."

The gun appeared out of nowhere.

"Thanks now get off the bike!" the hitchhiker screamed. His eyes were glazed from the drugs that were undoubtedly guiding his actions.

Shit, Remy thought to himself, "Stay calm, there's no need t' get all upset..." he slowly got off his bike. He'd let the guy go through the motions then stop him with a strategically placed card as he drove off. *Then* he'd beat the shit out of him for making him stand out here in the rain and *then* he'd leave his sorry ass in the ditch by the road for touching his bike!

This was what he got for trying to be *nice*...

"Drop the key and move away!"

Remy raised his hands up so the other man could see them and stepped slowly away.

"Give me your wallet and watch!"

Remy slowly reached into his pocket; his fingers brushed a card but he simply removed the wallet. This sucker was going to pay... *big time*...

"Give me that stud in your ear too!"

At that Remy bristled; Logan gave him the stud, no way was this slime ball getting his hands on it! "It ain't even real; the wallets got more than a hundred dollars in it... jus' take it and go."

The shot was fired before Remy could react and it grazed his head above the left ear; Remy spun and fell to his knee. The second shot hit his right thigh, burying itself in the bone and leaving him lying in the rain, completely immobile. The third shot passed through his shoulder into the ground below. Remy's last conscious thought was that Logan would be mad that he stopped.

The hitchhiker went no more than ten miles before he hydroplaned and slammed off the road into a grove of trees surrounded by thick brush.

*****

By the next evening at seven o'clock Logan was driving everyone in the mansion to distraction with his pacing and growling; a monstrous rainstorm was blowing in off the Atlantic Ocean and the entire East Coast of the States was buried under flood warnings and severe thunderstorms.

Hank watched Logan play with the food Jean forced him to sit and at least try to eat, "I'm sure he's fine my friend," he said to try to calm him down.

"It ain't like him," Logan growled back, "He knows I'm waitin', he knows Cyke needs the information he picked up." He stirred his peas into his mashed potatoes on his plate.

"Maybe he decided to wait out the storm where he was. You said he was in the rain when you talked to him last," Hank took a sip of his iced tea, "You know how susceptible he is to cold's and flu's, maybe he was feeling under the weather and he's sleeping it off rather than take a chance on his bike."

"Yeah Logan, you know that thing is his baby. He just doesn't want anything to happen to it." Bobby said as he iced over Logan's plate trying to lighten his mood but the man didn't even notice.

"He'd call," was his only response. He stood abruptly and returned to their room. It would be long hours until the sun rose again... long hours of wondering and worrying.

*****

Remy knew nothing but blinding pain the first seventy-two hours after he finally became conscious again. Shivers and fever consumed him; he was aware of a voice and hands but nothing else. His head pounded mercilessly and he couldn't move his arm. He was sure if he looked he'd be missing half his leg so he didn't even try.

Every once in a while the voice became clear, "…make me a fortune with you…best-looking whore in the state…" then the voice, like everything else, would fade to black again.

*****

After three days and two trips down to Pennsylvania the entire team was on edge.

Remy was gone; he hadn't said where in the state he was so they were searching blind. Cerebro couldn't find him on a good day, and the rain and wind made even Wolverine's sensitive senses useless no mater how much Storm tried to help by manipulating the weather. "This is hopeless," she whispered in the empty Blackbird after another failed attempt to find her lost brother. She took the opportunity to allow herself the tears she'd been trying so hard to hold back. "Goddess, where ever he is?" She sniffled, then took a deep breath, reigning in her emotions again, "Please watch over my brother," she whispered as she stared out into the empty hanger.

*****

Remy opened his eyes and found he was staring at a face he'd never seen before. The gruff man set off something in his mind, something he should remember but the migraine he'd had since becoming aware that he wasn't dead held the memory at bay.

"Finally, you've been out for nearly a week. You got a name handsome?"

Remy blinked slowly... he tried to remember but nothing came to him, "Don't... remember…"

The man sitting by the bed in the small apartment stood and looked down at him and sneered, "Damn, you got a sexy accent too. Don't remember you're name, huh? I guess that shot to the head stole your memory. Well, we gotta call you something.... how 'bout Stephen; not Steve, that doesn't have enough…style. Nope, Stephen it is. I patched you up and dug the bullet out o' your leg. I couldn't take ya to a doctor, 'cause then I'd lose ya and we couldn't have that, no sir. You are gonna be the star of my stable." He smiled down at Remy but it wasn't a friendly smile, it was more like a fox in a hen house. "You *are* gonna pay me back, right Stephen? I mean I missed a lot of work savin' you and takin' care of you... You won't mind helping me out, right?"

The young Cajun suffered through another fever driven bout of shivers that left him feeling even weaker. He coughed, and then winced at the pain it sent through his entire body. Through a fever hazed mind he finally agreed, "I'll…help…"

The man cackled happily, "That's my boy! I knew as soon as I picked up your soggy body I found a gold mine. I'm Oscar, and in a few days you can start payin' me back!"

*****

Scott knocked on the door and leaned his forehead against the frame; how the hell was he supposed to do this?

He closed his eyes and tried to imagine that it was Jean who'd gone missing but he couldn't wrap his mind around the thought. If there was no Jean then there wasn't a Scott, in his mind it was as simple as that. He hated to admit it out loud but he liked the old Canadian, what he said was the truth. He was a gruff old man but he had a heart of gold and he'd lay down his life in a second to save a teammate.

He and the Cajun were a surprise at first but it was soon very evident that they were just as deeply in love as he and Jean. The Cajun didn't look as if he expected to be thrown away at the drop of a hat anymore, and Wolverine... Wolverine seemed twenty years younger. He smiled and joked more. He was more comfortable than Scott had ever seen him. They couldn't seem to keep their hands off each other. There was always a touch, a glance, some type of communication going on between them as if one couldn't function without the other. Logan was slowly dying inside without the young Cajun to complete him.

Scott straightened and knocked again; Logan's mail was still there in a pile outside his bedroom door and one letter in particular caught Scott's eye. He looked up and down the hall before picking it up. He felt guilty reading the other man's mail but he had a feeling he knew what this was. Reading through the letter he shook his head. There was nothing in their way now. Logan had been granted approval to make his commitment to Remy legal in the eyes of the law.  
"Damn."

"More bad news?" Hank asked as he joined Scott outside the room.

"They gave approval for the Commitment Ceremony," Scott answered softly.

Hank closed his eyes and sighed heavily, "Let's get this over with."

Scott tried the door and found to his surprise that it wasn't locked so he called in, "Logan? I have news."

Logan came out of the bathroom half dressed, hair still dripping from the shower he obviously just took. "What? Where is he? Is he okay? Who had him?"

Scott took a deep breath and looked at Hank.

Logan looked from Scott over to Hank and back again; his heart already knew what they'd say, but his head refused to acknowledge or believe it.

"A motorcycle was found in a ditch. The driver…"

Logan stared, "No…" he said slipping into shock.

"The driver," Scott continued a little louder after swallowing hard, "Is in a small hospital in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. He's in a coma and not expected to wake up. The ID..." He had to stop there and gather himself for what followed, "The I.D. identified him as Remy Le Beau." His voice was shaking badly now but he forced himself to finish, "We need to go down and…" he had to stop again, "We have to sign papers…"

Logan was still as a statue. He just stared at Cyclops willing him to take back the words, stop the searing pain in his chest; let him wake up from this nightmare.

"…Allowing them to stop life support…"

Hank forced Logan into a chair as his knees started to buckle.

"Are they sure?" Logan could barely manage a whisper.

"He had the wallet, the bike... Remy would never let anyone else touch that bike…" Scott was trying to stay calm. Trying to be the stable leader everyone expected him to be, but a tear slid down his face before he could blink it back. "I told them we'd be there in a few hours." His voice was strong now but the raw emotion couldn't be hidden or ignored.

"Logan, if you want us to go alone…" Hank started, trying to save his friend from actually facing the truth with his own eyes.

"No. No... I… I have to know, have to see with my own eyes…let me…" his eyes darted from side to side as his brain began to absorb the truth behind the words, "Just give me a minute and I'll…I'll meet you at the Bird." He was calm, too calm and both Hank and Scott knew that the storm would hit as soon as they walked out the door and Logan actually realized what Scott had just been forced to tell him.

Remy was dead.

*****

Ororo sobbed loudly when she heard the anguished scream coming from Logan's room.

Jean wiped a tear with a shaking hand down at the boathouse.

Logan couldn't hold back the scream...

Remy Was Dead.

Remy Was Dead.

Remy Was Dead.

With another long scream he started clawing pictures and books, anything that reminded him of his lost lover but when he got to the desk he froze, "Oh God... Remy," he whispered as he clutched his favorite picture to his chest.

He fell to his knees when his legs refused to hold him up, sobbing like a lost child.

*****

Hours later Scott and Hank stood flanking Logan as they walked up to the Nurses Station at Community Hospital. "Hello, my name is Scott Summers; I'm here to speak to Dr. Henderson?"

An older woman smiled up at him, "Oh Mr. Summers, we've been expecting you. Dr. Henderson's office is the third door on the left. I'll tell him you're on your way."

Scott offered a stiff smile, "Thank you."

Hank and Scott started to move but Logan was frozen in place. "It's almost over," Hank whispered gently in his ear as he guided his friend away.

Logan swallowed hard and nodded, that was true. Once he actually saw Remy the waiting would be over. He'd finally be able to say his goodbyes and start to grieve.

They knocked on the door and a young doctor came out to meet them, "Gentlemen, if you'd please follow me?" The doctor led the way to the ICU. In the far corner of the room there was a bed surrounded by monitors and machines. IV trees stood on each side and the man in the bed looked like a mummy. "He has severe head trauma," the doctor said bluntly, "His brainwaves are nearly non-existent, he will never wake up. I am very sorry."

Hank's hold on Logan tightened when he felt a shiver wash through the tense body. "I'm okay, Hank, let me…" He pulled away from his friends and moved to the bed. A sob escaped him as relief and shock fought for equal time in his tormented mind. "It's…It's not him. It's not him."

Scott and Hank hurried over.

Scott let out a bark of nervous laughter and Hank turned to question the doctor. Logan was shaking visibly and a tear left his eye, "It's not him..." He looked hopefully at Scott, "Oh God, he's still alive somewhere."

A smile broke out on Logan's face and Scott did the only thing he could think to do, he pulled the older man into a hug. He'd die if anyone found out but right now… "Then let's go home and find him," he said past the lump in his throat.

Before they left they collected Remy's personal belongings and his beloved motorcycle.

Logan sat in the back of the plane letting the tension bleed from his body.

There was still hope.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

In the three weeks since Remy's disappearance and the devastating trip to hospital Logan had become more and more withdrawn.

Answers to questions were down to single words.

Food was left in the hall outside his room for hours and then only a few bites were taken before it was returned.

He left every night, searching small towns and large cities; searching for a sight or a scent or a word that told him where his young lover was, and that he was okay.

They'd charged every base of Sinister's they knew about in hope or dread that they'd find him but there was nothing. The FoH was questioned several times; they decided to co-operate when Wolverine arrived, but they were no help. Every other known enemy was studied from afar, nothing showed.

The young Cajun had vanished without a trace.

*****

Remy leaned heavily on the back of the chair and watched as Oscar threw a bag on the bed. "Okay Stephen, put these on; you start work tonight."

Remy stared at the man, "But…" He'd only managed to get out of the bed yesterday. He was still running a fever and his shoulder was so stiff he could hardly move his arm. The migraine he woke up with was now a constant throbbing behind his eyes, and he had no idea who he was.

He had no memory of anything before waking up in this tiny apartment. He thought he remembered vague memories from his childhood so when Oscar told him what his "job" was he assumed that was what he did. It was the only thing that felt true.

He was used to answering to Stephen now but he knew in his heart that wasn't his name. Every time he tried to remember the pain in his head only increased, he felt it was hopeless to continue.

"So Stephen, since you aren't really ready to go out a few of my special clients have agreed to come to you; they receive a special discount and you get to stay here. You get those clothes on and be *real* nice to them, you understand."

Remy grimaced as he bent and picked up the bag. He couldn't put much weight on his leg so he leaned heavily against the wall on his way to the dirty little bathroom. Once inside, he locked the door and slowly stripped out of the clothes he was wearing.

Tears slid down his face as he put on the tight pants and silky shirt. Oscar had done a horrible job of patching him up. His shoulder wound still hadn't closed properly and his leg was hot to the touch and throbbed. This was beginning to feel so wrong but he didn't know why. The few memories he managed to capture were of him with much older men in roach infested hotels.

There was one that felt different but as hard as he tried he could not see the man's face .He was strong and possessive and yet gentle and kind. Remy turned to the mirror and stared at the fever-flushed face that stared back, "Who are you?" he asked the reflection but he had no idea.

He wiped the tears and ran his fingers through his hair, wincing when he hit the wound above his ear. Suddenly he was sure he remembered someone else doing that. He held onto the sink tightly and closed his eyes trying to grasp the illusive memory but it was just no good there was nothing.

He startled when he heard the knock on the door to the apartment.

"It's show time Stephen!" Oscar yelled as he went to open the door. He would let his preferred customers have half price until Stephen was ready to pay him back. He'd move through customers faster than anyone out there.

The rest of Oscar's little stable was jealous of the newcomer at first but once they got a look at him they understood. Stephen was so fine he'd draw clients from miles away, probably force some of the independents out of town, which meant more money for them in the long run.

"Hello David," Oscar shook the graying man's hand.

"I hope this boy is everything you said Oscar, are you sure it's safe?"

Oscar smiled, "Judge for yourself; you get to be the first to experience the sexy, sultry, Stephen."

Remy opened the door and leaned in the frame, saying the words he was told to say, "Hello," he whispered, "How can Stephen help you tonight?"

David's mouth fell open, "Damn Oscar, I'd pay just to hear him talk! Where the hell have you been hiding him?" The older man was all over Remy, squeezing and touching.

"He owes me so he's working off his debt, ain't that right Stephen?"

Remy just nodded and tried to keep his balance as the man started moving him across the room. "I want you to talk the whole time, you hear me sweet thing?"

Oscar bowed to the man and leaned in to whisper in Remy's ear, "You do what he asks boy and it will all be over before you know it."

Remy was scared to death but he nodded anyway, after all this was his job…

*****

By the time Stephen was done that first night he was barely conscious. His fever was raging and he could feel the blood running down his leg from his wound as Oscar helped him to the tub and sat him down. He turned on the water and watched, as it turned pink from the blood. "You did real good Stephen, real good. I know Carl can be rough, but after David left I was turnin' them away at the door! You are gonna be my ticket out of this rattrap apartment!"

Stephen didn't hear a word he said because he was lost in the horror of what he'd done. He hurt everywhere. His shoulder and thigh were bleeding, torn open again, and the migraine was back and pounding mercilessly away; it was all he could do to force himself not to be sick.

"I'll patch you up, you'll get some sleep, and we'll do it again." The man then roughly hauled Remy out of the tub and to the bed.

Before Remy fell into sweet oblivion he thought he remembered happily laying with a lover on satin sheets and being covered by a thick down comforter.

*****

The next night when Oscar opened the door he threw the keys and screamed, "Oh damn!" Carl had obviously paid an unexpected visit to the boy sometime during the day. He found what was left of him on the floor between the wall and the bed. " Damn you Carl, he was my ticket out!"

He heard a noise and watched the man in question move out of the bathroom, "Maybe I got a little carried away but he looked so pretty when he was scared…"

Oscar looked at the battered body on the floor, "You killed him, Carl! We gotta get out o' here...." He looked swiftly around the small room as an idea clicked in his mind, "Get anything that connects us to him and let's get the hell out of here!"

The two men stumbled around the small room collecting anything that would link them to the body they stepped over and ignored. When they were through they pulled the door shut, wiped off the handle, and left.

Somebody would find the body eventually.

*****

EMT's ran down the hall of Community Hospital pushing a gurney urgently.

"What've we got?" Dr. Henderson screamed over the commotion.

"The owner of the apartments on Sixth Ave. found him when he went up for the rent. He's lost a lot of blood, not breathing unaided, whoever worked him over was thorough. He's got a couple of wounds that look like gunshots, they're older, maybe three weeks, and they're all infected."

The EMT's moved aside for the doctor, "Get him to trauma two, STAT!" The doctor worked over the body fast but efficiently assessing the damage, knife marks, bruises... this kid would be lucky to survive. He pried open an eye to check his pupils and stumbled back with a sharp intake of breathe, "Shit, this is him! This is the kid they were looking for!" The doctor stepped away from his patient and called down the hall, "Nancy, call those guys from New York! Tell them we've got their boy here!" He stepped back up to the shattered body of the boy and called out to her again, "Tell them they better hurry!"

*****

"Xavier Institute, Jean Summers speaking, May I help you?"

"Mrs. Summers, this is Nancy Williams from Community Hospital in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. I'm calling for Dr. Peter Henderson. I'm pretty sure we have your friend here."

With little more than a thought Jean broadcast the call to everyone in the mansion. "Please repeat that?"

"We have a John Doe here; he's in critical condition. When the doctor went to check his eyes…they're red on black. Mrs. Summers, I really think this is your missing friend."

Scott and Hank appeared in the doorway of the kitchen almost simultaneously. Their hearts pounding, could it be?

"Thank you Ms. Williams, we'll be right there." Jean hung up the phone and threw herself at Scott, "It's a miracle! It's him, it has to be!" She was crying quietly on his shoulder.

He hugged her tight as he tried to get his emotions under control. "Let's go find out, shall we?"

By now all of the X-Men had gathered in the kitchen. They were all chattering loudly among themselves when it suddenly became silent.

Logan stood in the doorway looking fifty years older. He was pale and scruffier than ever, "Jeannie?"

She pulled away from her husband, tears still streaming from her bright green eyes. "It's him Logan, it has to be." She took his hands and squeezed them. "How many men can there be with red on black eyes?"

Logan looked into her eyes searching for the truth. He cleared his throat,

"Okay then," a tear left his eye making its way through the three-week growth of beard he now sported, "Let's bring him home where he belongs."

She gently wiped the tear from his face and kissed his cheek. "It's finally over."

He pulled her into a hug and suddenly everyone was patting his back.

"Come on...let's go!" Bobby whined.

*****

Nancy Williams blinked in surprise when five smiling faces greeted her after her lunch break, "Mr. Summers?"

"Can we see him?"

They looked so happy, she felt her stomach knot. "I'll call the doctor." She looked up at these friends of John Doe, didn't they realize…? "Doctor, Mr. Summers is here…No he brought others with him… Yes, I did tell them…Yes Doctor." She hung up the phone and smiled politely at them, "The doctor will speak to you here." She showed them to a small private waiting room.

Jean was clinging to Scott's arm, Ororo held tightly onto Logan's hand. Hank was feeling the first stirrings of unease; this is where he would take a person to tell them bad news but he kept his thoughts to himself.

The doctor entered and nodded politely to the others but spoke directly to Hank, "Dr. McCoy, first let me tell you what an honor it is to have you here. I'm sorry I didn't recognize you before."

Hank shook his hand and put on a smile he in no way felt.

"I think we should make sure this is your friend before we continue. If you'd come this way…"

Logan cleared his throat, "Doc, he's my lover; I'm gonna see him first."

There was no way the doctor was going to say no to the determination in that voice. "Of course then, this way please." He led Hank and Logan to a private room.

Once again Hank felt uneasy; if this was Remy he wasn't in a room with someone else; he was being kept away from everyone in a private room.

The doctor stopped in front of the closed door, "You were informed that his condition was critical?"

"Yes doctor, now may we?" Hank asked.

The doctor stared into his eyes a moment before nodding and opening the door; stepping aside to let Hank and Logan enter.

Nothing could have prepared them for the sight that greeted them.

A breathing tube snaked out of Remy's mouth, the respirator forcing air into his lungs. A heart monitor beeped quietly in the corner. His eyes were sunken and he was covered in purple bruises. A sheet hiding the worst of the damage covered his lower body.

"He had several gunshot wounds that were older, possibly as much as three weeks. One through his shoulder, one to his thigh and a grazing shot to his head, here. He's got an infection in his bloodstream because they were left unattended. There is also an infection in his femur. Whoever dug out the bullet in his leg never took care of it. There is fluid building in his lungs…" the doctor paused before saying quietly, "He's been attacked repeatedly; he needed surgery to repair the damage. We think he's been working as a prostitute-"

Logan's eyes were torn from his love by that statement, "What did you say?"

The doctor continued, "He was found severely beaten in an apartment building known for prostitution."

Logan turned to Hank who was reading Remy's chart. "May we have a moment doctor?"

The young man nodded, "Of course, takes all the time you need." He left and closed the door quietly behind him.

Logan stepped closer to the bed and ran his fingers through the soft hair. "God... Hank?"

He bent and kissed his young lover gently as Hank flipped through the pages of the chart. "It's not good Logan, he's very, very ill. The infections are out of control, if we don't stop them we could lose him or he could lose the leg." He lifted the sheet and cringed, rows of stitches crossed the boy's groin, and down his long thighs. Ugly bite marks, angry and red covered his torso.

Hank tried to replace the sheet but wasn't fast enough to keep Logan from catching a glance. He paled and returned to brushing back the long sweat darkened hair, "What was he doin' there Hank? Why would he be in a place like that? Why didn't he come home or call?"

Hank sighed and replaced the chart to the end of the bed, "I don't know Logan, and it will be a while before Remy can answer any questions." Hank felt Remy's forehead and inspected the graze over his left ear. "I'm going to go back and break the news to the others."

He left and Logan pulled a chair up to the bed; he sat and listened to the respirator breathe for the young man he knew intimately but hardly recognized now. There was no way to hold his hand because of the numerous IV's so Logan rested his hand on Remy's chest, "Darlin?" He played with the soft hair he'd given up hope of ever touching again, "I'm here now. I don't know what happened but I'm not lettin' ya out of my sight again." He wanted to kiss the boy so badly. "We're gonna get the bastard who hurt ya too, I promise."

The silence that answered him was deafening.

"You gotta wake up, okay? I have a really important question to ask."

Silence.

"Can ya hear me? Do ya even know I'm in the room?"

Still more silence.

The hiss and thump of the respirator, the quiet beeps of the heart monitor.

Deafening silence.

*****

Hank braced himself before entering the small waiting room.

"Well?"

"Can we see him?"

"How soon before he can be moved?"

Hank cleared his throat and began, "He's very ill; he's not even breathing on his own at the present time. He's had surgery to repair damage inflicted to his lower body, he's got infections raging out of control in his blood stream and the bones of his right leg," he paused, "He's currently in a coma."

Then before he could lose his nerve he continued, "I need everyone to please remain calm; I think it is important that you all understand some of what has happened to him. The reason he did not return home... the first man they found apparently shot him and stole his motorcycle and ID; that was how he was wrongly identified as Remy. At or around the same time someone else apparently found *our* Remy unconscious and...And proceeded to tortured him," He wouldn't tell them all of the horrors the young man was forced to endure.

Jean and Storm sat down hard, stunned by the severity of the injuries. Scott looked back at the ladies to make sure they were okay before he turned to Hank who had covered his face with a large hand, the image inducer taking care of the blue fur, "Hank?"

Hank lifted his tear stained face, "In all my years as the X-Men's physician I have never felt my stomach turn, what has happened to Remy is sickening even to me."

There was a knock on the door and Dr. Henderson entered, "I already spoke to Mr. Logan and I wanted to update you too," he carried a thick chart and moved to Hank, "I understand that you want to move Mr. Le Beau to your private medical facility." Hank nodded and he continued "I believe we will be able to remove the breathing tube in forty-eight to seventy-two hours, if we are successful I will sign the release papers on the condition that he is placed in a medical facility and allowed to continue healing under a doctor's care."

Hank nodded again, "We have a modern medical facility and Remy will be under my personal care until he is well."

The doctor smiled and shook Hank's hand, "I couldn't ask for more than that. Dr. McCoy, it's been a pleasure to meet you." He nodded goodbye to the others and left.

"Henry, what do we do now?" Storm's voice was quiet, subdued.

"I am going to stay here with Logan until Remy can be moved. You should go back home and inform the rest of the team, make sure the Lab is ready for our found friend. I know Remy hates my Lab but I think he would much prefer to be there than in a strange one."

Scott shook his hand and said quietly, "Look after them."

"I will. I won't let them out of my sight."

Scott, Jean, and Ro reluctantly flew home to update the team and prepare the lab.

Hank wandered back to Remy's room; Logan hadn't moved since he left, his hand still rested on Remy's chest. He was staring at it, watching it rise and fall. "How's he doing?" Hank asked to break up the silence of the room.

Logan just shrugged, never taking his eyes off his lover, wondering if the young man would be able to recover. "I gotta know what happened; I gotta find out what made him stay here, do…do what he did." Logan knew Remy's past, had forced the boy to confess after a nightmare so bad that the intensity of it scared even the mighty Wolverine. There was *no way* Remy would do that again.

"We may never know," Hank said sadly and pulled up a chair to join Logan in his vigil at Remy's bed.

*****

Two days passed and the respirator was finally removed after two unsuccessful tries. Remy was still lost in sleep so deep that nothing could wake him but he was breathing on his own and ready to go home.

"Well Logan, it's a small victory but a victory none the less," Hank spoke quietly after the procedure.

Logan bent and kissed Remy the moment the nurses left the room. He didn't respond and Logan felt a dull ache in his chest. He had almost convinced himself that his kiss would wake the sleeping thief just like in the fairytales. "Yer right Blue, it is. Can we go home now?" Maybe familiar sounds and smells would get through to his lost love.

"Yes, Scott will arrive in the Falcon within the hour. It's much smaller and easier to explain at airports than the Blackbird. An ambulance will transport Remy to the plane." Hank left to sign the release papers after checking his young patient once more.

Logan turned and walked to the window that looked over a nearby park; watching the people below he sighed and wondered if his life would ever be that simple.

He heard a tiny sound behind him and turned slowly to find himself staring into the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen.

"Remy..."

End

To be continued soon in Present Hell.


End file.
